The Journey
by FannyT
Summary: Snape and Lupin are on their way to somewhere they're not all that sure where in the Transylvanian mountains to... well, to be quite honest they're not sure what they're supposed to be doing there. But as we all know, it's not the goal but the journey the


Hello! Thought the days of Lupin-centred Potterfics were over? Think again.

This can be seen as a prequel to my other recent Lupin-fic Going Wild, in that Going Wild picks up where this leaves off. (That's where any kind of connection between the two ends though. Going Wild is dark and angsty and this is mainly just silly.)

But I will stop chattering and let you read instead! Hope you like it; if you do, I would love for you to write and tell me why.

On to the fic.

**Disclaimer: **I still do not own Harry Potter and co. If I did I'd be rich.

The Journey

It was early morning at King's Cross, but not so early that the main wave of morning travellers hadn't arrived. The platform was thronged with people on their way to work and in the general bustle no one noticed a man, dressed oddly in what appeared to be a long, black dress. Should someone happen to pause and look at him, however, the man's icy glare was enough to quickly send any curious by-passer on his or her way. The man was Severus Snape, an unpleasant person on a regular day with people skills in the minus zone. Today, he was angry to boot.

The train from Yorkshire arrived, eleven minutes late, and Snape straightened up as the doors opened, scanning the crowd. He saw a man dressed in an old, worn sweater and patched pants fall off the train onto the platform, apparently pushed by someone behind him, and smiled thinly. He didn't move from his spot, nor wave or call out to the man, but watched him closely as he made his way through the throng of people with difficulty. Presently the man spotted Snape, made his way over and dropped his tattered bag onto the pavement. Snape smirked.

"Oh look, it's the Werewolf of London."

"Ha bloody ha," said Lupin irritably. He had spent too many hours on train to appreciate jokes, especially ones that weren't very original. "Good to see you haven't lost your infamous sense of humour."

"Good to see you, at least, have not been affected by the ever-rising trend towards obesity," Snape replied coolly. "The headmaster is waiting for us. Please get going."

"I just got here. Give me a minute to breathe."

"Time is money. I imagine you'd want to save it."

"Are we going to have many more cracks about the state of my health, my finances or my clothing before the day is over? Because I just spent three days with the Tonkses, and one more comment – and yours aren't even well-meaning – might just make me snap."

"Blind people wouldn't use that sweater to clean out the Kneazle's box."

"Alright, now you're just being sadistic."

"No, I was merely trying to get the third category into the conversation. I believe in doing things properly." Snape smiled his thin smile again and turned on his heel, walking towards the exit. "Although I wouldn't mind, of course, if it had the positive side effect of making you have a nervous breakdown. There is nothing I would enjoy more, trust me."

"Well, at least you're honest." Lupin picked up his bag and followed his old school mate, shaking his head. "This is going to be a couple of fun weeks, I can tell."

"I could hardly sleep last night for the excitement."

"Why don't you like me?"

"You tried to eat me when I was fifteen."

"I did not."

"Would have if James Potter the Brave hadn't come literally galloping to my rescue."

"Come on. Cut free of the past, Severus."

"It's Snape. And I find that a bit rich coming from you."

"What? I don't hold grudges. If there's one thing I'm known for, it's not holding grudges."

"Says the man who never in twelve years went to visit his ex-best friend in jail. And I dare say you wouldn't offer a bit of cheese and a cosy hole for Pettigrew should he stick his whiskery nose within hundred metres of your home."

"...Peter is a traitor."

"You missed twelve years with Black because you jumped to the same quick conclusion about him. Now, I'm not saying the rat isn't, well, a rat; but I'm saying that if it's one thing Slytherin has taught me, it's that there is no such thing as black and white, Good or Evil. I mean, have you ever asked yourself just why Pettigrew turned traitor? A bit strange isn't it, that he'd go over to the Dark side? What with the wonderful, brilliant, noble friends and all."

"...You _really_ don't like me, do you."

"Somebody give the man a medal. He understands at last."

They found Dumbledore in Trafalgar Square, feeding pigeons and making strange noises that, presumably, passed as pigeon language. He ignored the strange looks from the people around him, looking back at them only occasionally to smile a toothy old man smile.

"That can be classified as Muggle-baiting, you know," said Lupin, as he and Snape arrived, sitting down on either side of their former headmaster. Dumbledore grinned at him.

"It's alright, they just think I'm a senile old weirdo."

"That's what I mean. Besides, what interesting could pigeons possibly have to say? I always figured them as having roughly the same IQ as mould."

"Oh, no." Dumbledore shook his head, with emphasis. "They are very intelligent. It's quite interesting. It seems they have an intricate plan for taking over this city – it's been perfected over several generations and now is the time to put the final stage into action. They started fifty-six years ago by infiltrating the Parliament, and the time for their take-over is set to next Sunday. At tea, I believe."

Lupin was impressed. "Really?"

"No." Dumbledore grinned again; on the other side of him, Snape snickered at Lupin's gullibility. "Actually, they mostly talk about bread. And cats."

"Oh, did they say anything about Minerva? She said she'd be in London today but I couldn't get hold of her."

"I don't know. They did mention a large tabby; but since their description was largely centred on the teeth and I haven't studied Minerva's mouth in great detail, I can't be sure."

Snape interrupted the conversation. "I know you two don't have any kind of life," he said, "but could we stop behaving like gossiping witches at a tea party and get back to what we are actually here for?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore, twinkling at him. "As you both know, you will be embarking on a trip to the Transylvanian mountain range in about..." he checked his watch "seven hours. You were chosen for this because of your ability to more than anyone else gain the confidence of the local inhabitants of these mountains."

"Who are at best half-human and in most cases not even that," said Lupin cheerfully. "Me and Snape will be right at home. This'll be amazing, Snape – for once you will be the most human in the company!"

"Possibly," said Snape.

"I can see you're going to get along capital," twinkled Dumbledore. "I want you to persuade as many as you can not to join Voldemort. If they seem willing to listen, try to find suitable spy material and see if you can get them to co-operate. We'll see what happens next. Make it up as you go along."

"A master plan," said Snape dryly, and then stood up. "I took care of the welcome committee and I've heard all of this before. If you don't mind, I'll go and enjoy my last Lupin-free hours. I'll be at King's Cross in seven hours."

"Well! I'll leave it to you to take care of all the practical stuff, then," said Dumbledore easily to Lupin as Snape disappeared down a side street. "Now, when you first get there I want you to..."

Lupin was standing with one foot jammed firmly in the train door when Snape finally arrived back at the station. "Glad to see you made it," he said acidly, signalling to the disgruntled guard that he should open the door again. "I mean, not that it was getting uncomfortable keeping the train in the station for you or anything, but the half hour you've kept us waiting has probably made my coffee go stone cold. Not that it matters."

"Not really," said Snape, and swept past him. He stopped briefly by the guard, pressed something into his hand and then went on his way blessed by a smile. Lupin raised his eyebrows, remembering the refusal by that same guard to even listen to him earlier.

"Is he that much cuter than me," he asked as he stepped on board, "or why does he get special treatment?"

The guard had the insolence to grin. "Money for a whiskey can buy a lot of politeness," he said, waving a note. Lupin shook his head in silent marvel over the shameless corruption of his – supposedly – proud mother nation and followed Snape.

"And here I figured you for the meticulously punctual," he said, taking his seat with a sigh and Vanishing the (indeed cold) coffee with a wave of his wand. "You kept me waiting for – "

"Half an hour. You said." Snape sneered. "Normally, yes, I set great store by keeping appointments. I do make an exception, however – for you and you only."

"I am deeply touched."

"I will go to sleep now." Snape took off his cloak, bundling it up for a makeshift pillow. "Wake me up in time for the first shift of trains."

"Wha – hey!" Lupin exclaimed. "You're just going to sleep the trip away? How boring! What am I supposed to do while you're off in fairyland, running hand in hand with the Sandman?"

"I'm sure you can find ways to amuse yourself," said Snape nastily, stretched himself out across the three seats on his side of the compartment and was asleep in minutes. Since Lupin was at least in part a kindly soul, he waited for at least fifteen minutes before he started practising his harmonica playing.

Snape was, as has earlier been mentioned, not a pleasant person even when in the best of moods. Newly woken up and grouchy, he was nothing short of hell.

"I thought you might want something to drink," said Lupin pleasantly. He was very, very full of glee.

Snape swore, at length.

"The guy with drinks will be along in a second, you see. I didn't want to buy for you since I was afraid you'd decapitate me if I chose the wrong drink."

Snape buried his face in his cloak and kept swearing, only now somewhat muffled.

"He's in the next compartment right now, so you better hurry up and choose if you're going to have something. And if you don't mind, it'd be great if you could stop kicking me."

Snape muttered something that suggested Lupin should be happy this was the only thing Snape was doing with his boot.

"The poking in my side with your wand is not exactly pleasant, either. It keeps hissing at me. Ah, hello?"

"Can I tempt you gentlemen with anything?" asked the guard, wheeling a trolley to the open door of the compartment. "I have coffee, tea, a broad assortment of soft drinks, and (if you pay a little extra, under the table so to speak, we don't like the expression "black market" but you know how it is, I didn't say this) liquor at a very cheap price."

"Ice water," said Snape. He was sitting up by now, rubbing his eyes. "And a large coffee, milk and sugar, a lot of both."

"Certainly, sir. And tea for you, is it, sir?" asked the guard, turning to Lupin who sighed.

"Coffee," he said. "Black." Once their requests had been granted and the guard had moved on to the next compartment, he raised his eyes to the heavens (or ceiling, to be exact) as if asking for divine guidance. "Why is it," he asked, "that everyone who looks at me instantly assumes I'm a tea drinker? I only ever drink the stuff because it's easier to conjure. Well, I used to quite like it, but I've been turned off by all the people who take one look at me and start bringing out the tea bags – or leaves, if it's Sybill – without even asking..."

"It's because you look like a British ponce," muttered Snape, and upended the glass of water over his head. Lupin winced and conjured a towel, which was accepted with bad grace.

"Well, I am," he then said. "British, that is."

"Would you perhaps deign to tell me exactly _why_ you woke me up?" asked Snape, not in the least interested in what Lupin was or wasn't. "And _don't_ tell me again it was because of the drinks."

"Alright." Lupin shrugged. "It's because I'm sadistic. And because I was _really_ bored."

"Oh, gods. And I'm supposed to spend how many hours with you on this blasted train?"

"Lighten up. This could be fun," said Lupin, grinning at his old school mate. Snape did not grin back. "I brought playing cards."

"Hooray. The trip is saved."

"I brought Firewhiskey, too."

Snape appeared to be momentarily interested, but then he snorted in derision. "If that was an attempt at a bribe," he said, "you should have done your homework better. I drink Bloody Mary. Only Bloody Mary. Sometimes with an extra celery stalk if it's a special occasion."

"Will this be the Bloody Mary or the _Really_ Bloody Mary?"

"What do you think?"

"I think those rumours about you being a vampire suddenly got a whole lot more substance."

"They're not just rumours, they're true."

"What, really?"

"No."

Lupin winced. Alright, so he _was_ gullible. So what. "So why'd you get picked for this, then?" he asked, glancing at Snape over the top of his cup. "Other than your startling charisma and the chemistry between us two, I mean. Why are you being sent to chat up ogres, hags and werewolves?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore had his reasons," answered Snape smoothly. Lupin raised an eyebrow.

"Meaning you don't want to tell me."

"Meaning it's none of your business."

"Meaning you don't want to tell me."

"Meaning it's none of your business."

"Meaning you don't..."

"We could go on like this for the rest of the trip but frankly, Lupin, I think that somewhere inside that head of yours is something that at least passes for maturity so cut it out now."

"I can so see why you became a teacher."

"Actually, in Slytherin we had a bet running on _you_ becoming a teacher," Snape confided. When Lupin raised his eyebrows, asking for an explanation, he shrugged. "It seemed to fit you."

"That so?" Lupin considered. "Well, I always wanted to. But then the war started, and all the dreams we'd had didn't seem so important... then of course, there was the whole werewolf situation to consider. Most schools don't want a teacher who turns into a bloodthirsty monster once a month. Strange, because they employ women..."

"So what did you do those years after the war? You'd been around a lot, I seem to remember."

"Yeah..." Lupin sipped at his coffee again. "I've done a lot of different things. Shop-keeping, construction work, night guard for a while, laying railroads in the middle of Siberia – don't ask how I got into that one – and I even managed some teaching after all... Never one job for long. Mostly Muggle jobs, actually. They're easier to keep, because they don't understand the significance of my very regular sick leave days... but still, even they get suspicious. I've worked some in the Transylvanian parts, too. They're less biased there. Or more used to my kind, I should say."

"But teaching, that was the original dream then?" asked Snape. When Lupin looked at him, puzzled over this sudden interest, he added almost apologetically, "I had my money going on you. I lost it, of course, when you graduated and went straight into Order work, but I'd still like to know I was right."

"I'm sure you would," said Lupin sardonically. Snape's problem had always been that he _had_ to know he was right. (To be more exact, Snape's problem had been that he very often _was_ right, even when it might have been better to be wrong. Such as when the biggest bully in school – uh, which would be James or Sirius, actually – contradicted what he had said. Snape had never been good at that subtle kind of lies that's called diplomacy.) "Yes, I wanted to be a teacher. I studied for it, too."

"You were always one of those studious types."

"This said by the one who had one hundred percent on his Defence Against the Dark Arts NEWT. You, if anyone, were "studious"."

"That was the one subject. Well, that and Potions. You were just a general brainy type." Snape drained his coffee and Vanished the cup. "You and those wonderful friends of yours who seemed to know everything by heart before they'd even looked at the text books. You can't imagine how we hated them."

"I can," Lupin contradicted. "I studied with them. And James's mantra while studying was this: _"There must be something I have missed! I feel so incredibly sure of everything, so I must have forgotten something. It's impossible to be this well prepared for a test!"_ "

"My god. How _did_ you put up with that boy?"

Lupin frowned slightly, thinking back before he answered the question. "I'm not entirely sure," he said at last. "His smile, I guess."

"I always knew you were queer."

"Screw you. I was not."

"_Was_ not?" Snape smirked. "Not 'I _am_ not' but 'I _was_ not'?"

"Oh, shut up." Lupin sat back in his seat, trying to find the words to explain what he meant. "I mean... James, he did stupid things and he was occasionally a right bastard – yes, I know he took your underpants off in front of the entire school, there's no need to remind me – but still... I always felt that there was some basic goodness in him, all things considered. And when he was happy, he always saw to it that the people around him were glad, too. That's what I mean... his smile could always make me happy. He was generous, always shared everything." Lupin paused in consideration. "Although I guess that would go for his bad moods, too. When he was angry, he damn well made sure everyone knew it."

"An admirable character trait."

"No one can do sarcasm quite like you, Snape."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't meant to be a... oh, never mind." Lupin paused, and peered at Snape as he finished his coffee. "Well, look at us. Getting all nostalgic here." Snape sneered at him.

"Touching, isn't it. Let me share a studying memory with you – watching Crabbe work his slow and agonising way through a book. It was almost painful to watch. There was only one thing that was worse, and that was seeing Goyle try to help him out. It would have gone a whole lot better if he had been able to read." Snape stopped and put his head fractionally to one side. "Black, now... what would his study methods be? Chanting something over and over, like Potter? I hope not, he had a terrible singing voice."

Lupin shook his head, smiling. "Sirius never studied. At least, not in public. He read under the sheets every night in the week preceding an important exam though."

"I understand you had great insight into what went on underneath Black's sheets."

"What _is_ it with these repeated insinuations? Is everyone in Slytherin such a rabid slash fan, or is it just you?"

"I couldn't care less who or what you shag, believe me," Snape replied dryly. "But I enjoy seeing you get all flustered."

"I'm not flustered. I'm an open-minded person and find all sexual preferences equally acceptable and worthy."

"And you blush like a schoolgirl whenever I suggest that your own sexuality is anything other than the strictly conventional."

"Judging by the expertise with which you gave that description, I'd guess you have seen more than your fair share of blushing schoolgirls."

"Now you're turning to nasty insinuations to distract me from my own ones. Pathetic, Lupin. I thought more of you than that. What a disappointment."

Lupin scowled at him. "Well, just because you're so damn liberated. Is it a Death Eater thing? When you don't know what's under those masks, shrug and hope for the best?"

"Oh yes, because that's what Death Eaters are known for," said Snape acidly. "Orgies and snog feasts and free love for all. The Muggle terror was just a sideshow." He paused, and went on, "Alright, so you didn't have a naughty passion for Potter or Black. What, then? There was always tension between you and the Two Tornadoes. Are those rumours about unrequited love for the fair Evans true, perhaps?"

"What? No!" Lupin exclaimed, looking appalled. "Where do you get these things from? I never loved Lily." He hesitated. "And the tension you speak about is just simple resentment."

"Resentment?" For the first time, Snape looked actually surprised. "What on earth for?"

"It's hard to explain... James and Sirius, they were two of a kind. They were the best friends. They were the ones everyone noticed, for good or bad. Beside them, Peter and I often felt like shadows – Peter so more than I, of course."

"I'm not sure he resented that like you did. He was born to be a sidekick. He practically had sidekick written across his forehead. Actually, now that I think about it... he _did_ have sidekick written across his forehead for a few weeks there in our sixth year. Was it Potter and Black who wanted to remove all doubt, or what?"

"Nah, it was a Hufflepuff fifth year who jinxed him for a dare. Sirius gave the little twat's bed a new hex every night for a month. He would probably have kept going, only he got bored."

"The Most Ancient and Noble art of revenge."

"There was no one like Sirius for revenge."

"You say that, but you don't know what I would have done to him and Potter if I'd ever had the chance. I had several quite ingenious plans, if I do say so myself."

"Out of the two, who did you hate most? I've been curious about this for a long time."

"Hm, tough question." Snape drew his brows together, apparently thinking hard. "On the one hand, we have Potter, so sure of himself that the first time he asked Evans out she had to tell him no five times before he understood her."

"Wait a minute, how do you know that?"

"Who _didn't_ know that? That rumour spread even faster than the one about Professor Kettleburn being into bestiality. I mean, for us Slytherins it was the laugh of the year. If ever we got bored in the common room all someone had to do was to say "Evans, go out with me" and the evening was saved. Anyway, to get back to the _Who does Snape hate the most_ game, on the other hand we have the guy who dated three girls a week and bragged about it loudly at every occasion possible – preferably when all three were present – who terrorised anyone who annoyed him and when he was bored, hexed the random fellow student for fun. Mm, it's a tough choice, but I think it'd have to be Potter after all."

"Why?"

"Well... I think it was because he was so _righteous_. As in, _you must do the right thing_! Saint bloody Potter. That's one of the reasons his saving me ticked me off so much. I could have killed him."

"Come on. Anyone in that situation would have done the same."

"Yes, but not in that way. I mean, you would have just gone and... no wait, you would have bit me."

"Oh, _come on_."

"You would. You were not a potential saviour from a bad situation. You _were_ the bad situation. But let's say it had been... Frank Longbottom or whoever who had heard about the whole werewolf thing. He would have gone down, got me back and then shuffled his feet and said something on the lines of "it was nothing", which would have made it possible to thank him and then get on with my life. But Potter stands there and says, in that righteous voice of his, _"I know you're not going to thank me for this. I don't expect you to. But I would have done this for anyone. Even you."_ You see? He had saved my life. I could bloody well have kissed him if it wasn't for the fact that Evans would have had my nose off. I would have thanked him on my bare knees... if only he hadn't made that fucking speech. With that, he made it impossible for me to act as a normal human being and thank him."

"I never realized you'd given this so much thought."

"I was fifteen and almost died. It was quite an overwhelming experience."

"Of course, when you put it that way... I can see how it'd give rise to some thought. But I still don't get just why you hated James so much for this."

"You can't see it?" Snape looked outright incredulous. "That bastard stood there and flat out told me that he didn't save me because my life was worth something, but because was the _right thing_ to do. I had never felt so worthless in my life."

Lupin hesitated. "I never saw it that way."

"You got the Saint Potter side of the story, of course you didn't."

"Snape... about that name..." Lupin looked pained.

"Oh yes, we don't know if that's strictly true, do we? You never got a postcard from the other side telling you where he went?"

"...Has anyone ever told you how very tasteful you always are?"

"Actually, no."

"I can't imagine why not."

"You are too calm."

"Hm?" Lupin asked, surprised at the comment that he couldn't help but feel came completely out of the blue. Snape sighed irritably.

"You are too calm. We are talking about your best friends. They are _dead_, Lupin." He rolled his eyes. "But you just don't react. That's why you have those scars on your arms."

"What?" Lupin blinked, caught off guard. "How do you know about those?"

"You have the sleeves of your sweater pushed up," said Snape dryly. Lupin immediately pushed the cuffs of his sweater down to his wrists, and then despised himself for doing it. "It doesn't take a genius to notice them, just as it doesn't take a genius to figure out what they are. You hurt yourself, because you think it'll make all the other pain go away. You never show your emotions – instead you hide it all inside and when it becomes too much, you say you lost control as the wolf and explain away the fresh scars on your hands and arms with a laugh. You have always been like this. Always calm, collected, in control."

"The three C words," said Lupin cheerfully, to hide his confusion. "They've never failed me." When he saw Snape's disgusted expression he went on, more seriously now, "But why are you saying all this? I thought your life's joy was to see me suffer."

"Because it's annoying." Snape glowered at him. "I have never seen your behaviour in anyone older than my seventh year students. It's stupid."

"Who are you to talk. I don't think you'd win any Grammy awards for your emotional displays, either."

"I am a teacher," Snape replied, as if this was supposed to explain everything. Seemingly realising it didn't, however, he elaborated, "What little trouble that can't be forgotten by bullying my students, evaporates as soon as I can start taking points off one of the other houses. A most effective therapy. I would recommend it as an alternative to this whole 'suffering alone' thing you've got going."

"I've never been good at suffering in public," replied Lupin, with a final stab at humour.

"If you don't learn, you're going to break. And I for one don't want to be stuck with picking the pieces out of the carpet," Snape said, adding a glower for emphasis. "It would, as I said before, be very annoying. It was OK to behave like this when you were still in school, but you're an adult for Merlin's sake. Grow up."

"How do you know what I was like when I was in school?" asked Lupin, choosing to concentrate on just one part of what Snape had said. The other was too hard to think about.

"In case you didn't notice," said Snape, glaring at him, "we were in the same classes for seven years."

"Yes, but..."

"...you don't know anything about me. I know. That's the way it's always been. I knew everything there was to know about you and your brilliant friends, you knew nothing about me. I think it says a lot about our relationship. And before you have time to start stuttering with embarrassment, I'm talking about relationship as in the way two people see each other, not relationship as in 'So that's the _real_ reason for all those "Wolfsbane sessions"'. Oh dear, I thought we would be able to avoid a blush."

"Shut up," said Lupin, blushing. "But I don't understand... why go through the trouble? Why did you learn things about us? James and Sirius never went that far just in order to rile you."

"See, that's what I mean," Snape replied. "They never considered me a serious threat, a worthy enemy. They saw me as someone annoying and someone who was fun to smash about, but they never took me seriously."

"Or maybe they just weren't as ambitious in their attempts to make you fly off the handle?" Lupin suggested. He had always, in the back of his mind, rather admired the things Snape thought up to insult James or Sirius. It was often very ingenious, and it was obvious that a lot of thought had gone into whatever he did. Such as the time when one of James's distant cousins had been prosecuted for performing... shall we say, unusual magic on chickens (Lupin later learned that she had been taught the charm by Dumbledore's uncle), and Snape had sent four cockerels to James as a present. They arrived right in the middle of breakfast, to the confusion and amusement of the Great Hall, and just after the Daily Prophet-reading part of the student community had had time to read about someone named Tatiana Potter.

James retaliation had been to look up hex after hex in the library by night and then spend a week performing every single one of them on Snape (in alphabetical order, of course).

But he had never, Lupin realized, researched Snape like Snape had apparently read up on them. He had been content with hexes and curses, had never bothered with the psychological warfare Snape seemed most fond of.

"Yes, well." Snape fell silent, embarrassed perhaps at having revealed so much of himself. He bundled up his cloak again and rested his head against the wall, not going so far as to lie down to sleep but still clearly showing he no longer had any desire to talk. Lupin sighed, picked up his copy of Gilderoy Lochart's Wanderings with Werewolves and started to read. And thus passed one peaceful hour, until the guard appeared in the door and said that they were approaching Dover.

As per Snape's earlier instructions, Lupin woke him up. Quite unpleasantly.

"I don't suppose you'd consider holding the train for me while I go off and buy another coffee?" asked Lupin. There was a tiny glimmer of hope in his voice. Snape stomped on it.

"If you expect me to stand in the door like a moron while you caffeinate yourself, you are sadly mistaken."

"Hey. I held the door for you."

"I repeat: like a moron."

Lupin gave up. They had taken a boat over to the European mainland, and were now making the transition onto a new train – this one bound for Paris. Lupin had been hoping to get something decent to drink during the interval between the docking of the boat and the departure of the train but sadly, this phase had turned out to be exactly twenty minutes long which was just enough to find their train and get on. Sighing, Lupin followed Snape onto the train and into a suitable compartment.

"Why are we travelling Muggle, anyway?" he asked as the train hooted twice and started pulling out of the station. "You suck at dressing the part."

"We are travelling Muggle because we are not to draw attention to ourselves and because it's harder to trace."

"But why? We don't have to hide from the Ministry anymore."

"You might have missed it, but there's still these guys called Death Eaters around who hate our guts and who are watching everything we do. If we go by train we can jump off or switch trains in order to get to our destination, and they'll have a hard time figuring out where we went. I thought Dumbledore explained all this to you."

"Yeah, but I didn't listen. But about that, couldn't you just feed false information into the Death Eater ranks or something? I understand you're still paying pals with them."

"I am feeding them false information. I told them we're going on our honeymoon."

"You what?"

"I was joking," said Snape, the man with the face that could make a stand-up comedian break down in tears. "I told them Dumbledore assigned to help you out when you go to Hungary for lycanthropy treatment – you have a pretty bad case of it and have been having problems lately." Snape paused to sneer. "I also told them that you can't Apparate for love or money – and you'd think those two would be pretty strong incentives – and that's why we're going by train."

"You really enjoy making up these stories, don't you."

"Makes my day."

"Is there a lycanthropy treatment centre in Hungary?"

"You can't go there. We're on a mission."

"From God," said Lupin solemnly. Snape stared. "Alright, from Dumbledore. I take it you've never seen Blues Brothers."

"Are they related to the Weird Sisters?" asked Snape suspiciously, and added, "I hate them. I suspect the main reason Dumbledore keeps hiring them for assorted dances and festive occasions is to see me suffer."

"Is it true one of them tried to force-feed you Fizzing Whizzbees at Woodchuck?"

"Not only tried; succeeded." Snape made a wry face (he was kind of an expert in the area). "And that was before they'd been allowed out on the market, too. They hadn't been completely developed yet... still had rather uncontrolled effects... I was fifteen feet into the air and rising fast when Kingsley Shacklebolt finally got on his broom and was able to get me down again."

"Wait, was Kingsley at Woodchuck?" Lupin frowned. "Funny, I missed him completely."

"He was security. You wouldn't have had much to do with them, nice law-abiding boy as you were. Is it true you combed your hair with water every day for our first three years at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, but then I took after you and started using grease instead," Lupin retorted. "I find it vaguely disturbing that you have all these stories about me. Have you been collecting them?"

"Yes. It's a bit embarrassing, but since you ask I feel obliged to tell the truth: I worship you. If it wasn't for the fact that every vertical space in my home is taken up with bookshelves containing Dark Arts books and illegal artefacts, I would have a wall plastered with photos of you, plus the occasional relic you have touched and which I therefore pray to on a daily basis."

"Sometimes I feel I ought to just sock you a good one."

"I would never wash my cheek again." Snape stood up, stretching his arms. "Speaking of which, I'll go and wash my face in the anticipation of the mentioned sock. I wouldn't want you to dirty your beautiful white hands."

"My hands aren't white."

"The fact had not escaped my attention. I was being poetic."

"I shudder to think what your books of poetry are like."

"You should. They bite."

After Snape had left, Lupin tried to settle down with his Wanderings with Werewolves again. He was in the middle of a particularly amusing account of _"the werewolf's lair, where every spare surface was hung with the grisly trophies of its kills – here a locket of hair, there a severed finger or a pendant torn from the victim's neck moments before the deed"_ when there was a tap at the window and an owl's face appeared. Putting the book down in mid-chuckle, Lupin rose to open the window. The owl fluttered in and perched on the table, gazing reproachfully at him.

"There's no reason to look at me like that. I let you in as soon as I saw you," said Lupin. "Is that for me?"

The owl glared suspiciously at him and then stretched out its leg. There was a note attached – a simple piece of parchment folded thrice, with Snape's name scrawled untidily on one side and the address _Somewhere on a train somewhere between London and Hungary, at least until sometime tomorrow_.

Lupin deeply admired owls' ability to find people.

"He's in the toilet at the moment," he said, indicating the name on the note. "If you'd care to wait...?"

The owl hooted, loudly.

"Fine, fine." Lupin hastened to untie the note, not particularly looking forward finding out what his fellow (very Muggle) passengers would think of him having an owl as a travelling companion if the noise drew attention.

...Actually, they'd seen him in conversation with Snape. The owl would probably be considered quite normal, by comparison.

The owl hooted again, even louder this time. Lupin winced.

"Now what... oh. You want to get paid? His mates send him letters by _pay owl_? Christ. Well, as I said he's in the toilet... OK, fine, I'll pay. Yes, yes. Just stop making that godawful noise. I don't know why I'm talking to you like this, it's not as if you understand me."

The owl finally took off, after hooting a couple of times more purely out of spite. Lupin closed the window after it, put his wallet back in his bag and, while doing this, accidentally dropped Snape's letter on the floor. It fell open, unfolding itself. He bent to pick it up and fold it together again, and as he did so accidentally read its content.

The letter consisted of one sentence. Lupin read it three times, and still could not believe what it said.

Snape returned to find Lupin staring out of the window. "Got tired of the book?" he asked. "When I left I could hear you giggling all the way down the corridor."

"I'm saving the best parts," said Lupin absently, then shook himself out of his thoughts and gestured towards the note. "There was an owl for you. You owe me twenty Knuts, by the way."

"Twenty?"

"Ten for what I paid the owl and ten more because I had to listen to its awful racket."

"Fine. Never let it be said of Severus Snape that he won't donate to the poor." Snape opened his wallet and threw Lupin a Sickle. "Keep the change."

"You'll excuse me if I don't kiss your shoes."

Snape opened the note and scanned it, then scrunched it into a ball and set fire to it. Lupin regarded him unblinkingly.

"Since it was a pay owl it left already," he said, staring hard at his old school mate. "So if you want to _reply_, we'd have to get hold of another."

"No matter," Snape replied casually – a shade too casually, to Lupin's mind. "It was just a few lines from a great aunt of mine, telling me to stay out of trouble and be a good boy. She has been telling me that for the past thirty years."

"Do you usually set fire to letters from your relatives?"

"Yes. If only because that's the closest I can come to setting fire to them."

Plausible, thought Lupin. But not true. He didn't feel like confronting Snape about what he had read in the letter just yet, however, so he changed the subject.

"When are we getting off this train?"

"After we cross the border to Hungary. We'll be getting off at a station – I've got the name of it written down but I will not attempt to pronounce it under any threat, at least not while sober. We then Apparate to a station some fifty miles north and take a train from there. We make two more switches in a similar fashion, to be on the safe side."

"You have it all planned out."

"Well, Dumbledore told me. Didn't he tell you this, as well?"

"Once again – I didn't particularly listen. It was boring."

"Remind me again just how you got through school."

"How are things back at the old Hogwarts, by the way? Apart from you detracting points from Gryffindor every time Harry looks at you funny, I mean."

"I love the person who invented the points system," said Snape in what could possibly pass for a happy tone. Being chronically grumpy and cynical put a slight damper on the ability to express euphoria. "You have no idea of how many offences there are to punish someone for."

"I was a teacher too, remember?"

"Yes, and you were the kind who subtracted points for nothing less than flagrant murder. Even so, it would have to be done in front of reliable witnesses."

"...So I don't like subtracting points. Is that a crime?"

"No, but it's wimpy."

"Piss off."

"To return to your question about life at Hogwarts – same as ever. Minerva tries to conceal the fact that she is clearly just as biased as I am about her House. Professor Flitwick can't get into the topmost cupboards of his classroom – I keep promising to Shrink them but watching him jump up and down to get materials for his classes is just too funny. The question whether Madam Hook is really a woman is still under debate. I'm taking up the Defence Against the Dark Arts position this year."

"You're _what_!" Lupin exclaimed, flying to his feet at once and banging his head on the inordinately low luggage rack. He sat back down with a thud, rubbing his head with one hand and glaring at his smirking companion. "Why? How on earth could Dumbledore let you take the job? I can't imagine anyone worse for the position than you! The Defence Against the Dark Arts is one of the most crucial and delicate subjects – you need someone who can help and encourage the students, not point out their faults and sneer at every wrong step!"

"As much as I enjoy listening to your compliments of my way of teaching and personality in general," Snape inserted dryly as Lupin paused for breath, "I must stem the flow of praise to explain just why Dumbledore agreed to – at last – reconsider my application for the job. Firstly, it was because these are indeed dangerous times, and every day now could mean the start of open war. Many of the Death Eaters have children at the school, and it is important to get these children in particular over to our side. What better class to show all the wrongs of Dark Arts magic than the _Defence_ Against the Dark Arts class? And who should be there to show them the right path? Someone who they trust, someone who is known to both them and their parents. Someone who has been to the Dark Side, and seen it for what it was, and redeemed himself. Someone, in short, like me."

Lupin stared at him. "Did you come up with that yourself?" he asked.

"I used Dumbledore's speech and substituted 'you' for 'me'," Snape admitted.

"Oh." Lupin thought for a while and finally nodded. "Well, it does make sense, I suppose. Sorry for the not-so-enthusiastic congratulations on getting the job. The thing is, I just have this mental image of you trying to teach Neville Longbottom the Boggart banishing spell, and that's why I kind of panicked when I thought of you teaching them DADA..."

"How funny. I feel exactly the same about you teaching them DADA, and for the same reason, too. _My_ mental image of _you_ teaching Neville Longbottom the Boggart banishing spell."

"Look, I said I was sorry about that. I can't help what he's scared of."

"You could have refrained from putting stupid ideas into his head. Half the school was under the impression that I was a drag queen who hadn't yet come out. It didn't help that the blasted Boggart emerged from a closet."

"Well, would you have preferred it if I had suggested him to put you in a House Elf toga? That was my first idea, actually." Lupin paused as a thought struck him. "Wait, was that episode the reason you made my Potion particularly foul that full moon?"

"Please. I am a professional."

"Well, yeah. But also a sadist. What was the other reason?"

"For making the Potion foul?"

"No, for Dumbledore hiring you. But if there was a second reason for tampering with the Potion, feel free to give that as well."

"I did not tamper with the Potion. I may have added a dash of Bubotuber pus by mistake, but it was of course not a conscious decision." He smirked, slightly. "And the second reason for Dumbledore giving me Defence Against the Dark Arts was that there was no other choice."

"I knew it."

"Actually, it was me or Bill Weasley."

"Bill? Really?"

"He volunteered for the job, but his French girlfriend wouldn't let him. Said she didn't trust him around school girls."

"Well, she was a Beauxbatons seventh year when they hooked up. It's understandable."

"What a horrible couple they are. Think of what their kids will look like – unearthly beauty and Weasley hair. I can't think of any two concepts that fit worse together."

"You and 'loyal follower', maybe." Lupin looked at Snape through narrowed eyes. Snape didn't seem to notice.

"Or you and 'person I would gladly bring to a dinner party'," he said, glancing at the mended elbows on Lupin's third-hand sweater, the second hand being Arthur Weasley and the first Molly's second cousin (the accountant).

"Bit of a mouthful, that one."

"Beats a couple of other things I thought of, however. For example 'gratefulness to someone who regularly spends the best part of a week brewing an immensely difficult potion for him' or 'absolutely no periods of additional face-hair once a month, no sir'. Speaking of which, Greyback is one of the most trusted right now in the Dark Lord's own little circle of Hell."

Lupin had a violent coughing fit.

"Greyback?"

"Yes, you know... hairy guy, tends to growl, has a sense of humour so twisted it could be used as a bedspring..."

"I know who bloody Greyback is! He's in with Voldemort?"

"He's the leader of the Dark Lord's werewolf brigade, yes. He's also part of the werewolf gang you will be infiltrating. I thought Dumbledore explained all this to you."

"Will you stop saying that? I can't help having a short attention span."

"You _are_ an unconventional man, Lupin. Most people mature as they grow older. You seem to have gone the other way."

Lupin verified this statement by scowling like a six-year-old. "Who else is still with Voldemort?" he then asked. "The Death Eater ranks must have thinned out considerably, I mean."

"Oh yes. Hardly ever a big enough turnout even for a game of cards, these days." Snape ticked off on his fingers. "Bella is still in. There's Alecto and Amycus – siblings, and as creepy as they come. I always suspected him of having a bit of a sister complex, as a matter of fact... Then there's one brute whose face looks like it's been chiselled out of stone by someone very drunk and one other guy who's as tall as two of me and admires Lockhart hugely, to the point of copying his hairstyle. It looks ridiculous, by the way." Snape heaved a sigh. "And these are the Dark Lord's most faithful. (There are more, of course, only not quite as blindly loyal.) They're all dithering idiots – the good ones went down in the Department of Mysteries. Whoops, did I say good ones? I mean the very, very bad ones, of course. Except for one or two like Nott who may have been only slightly naughty."

"And Peter?"

"Oh, of course. He's still part of the gang. The Dark Lord's own little pet rat. In fact, he's risen in the Dark Lord's favour lately, gained a lot of trust... not that the Dark Lord is spoilt for choice..."

"He has you," said Lupin, and now he looked so angry that Snape sat up straighter, frowning in puzzlement.

"What exactly are you – " he began, but before he had time to finish the sentence Lupin flew at him, trapping him against the seat. He raised his wand, pointing it at Snape's forehead.

"You disgusting, two-faced, lying worm," he hissed. "You really had me believing in you. You've fooled us all for ages. Hell, you've even got Dumbledore eating your lies out of the palm of your hand! Pity Peter can't seal a letter properly, hm? Otherwise you mightn't have been discovered until it was too late – for me, at least."

Snape's eyes widened and he struggled against Lupin's iron-like grip. "Let me explain," he said, "you don't understand..."

"Of course I don't understand how the mind of a fucking spy works," snarled Lupin. "How the bloody hell do you suppose I'm to understand how you think? I'm not the one who couldn't decide which side to be on and so became a spy on _both_ fucking sides!"

"Just listen to me. There's an explanation for this, it's just something I'm not supposed to tell you..."

"Oh, that's news. And every other mission your _Dark Lord_ sends you on, that's free for you to tell me, is it?"

"No, this is..."

"I'm not listening to your bloody excuses!" snapped Lupin, and raised his wand. He felt like killing the man, right there and then, but for one he didn't want to get his hands dirty and for another he knew that there were much worse fates than a swift death. For now, he intended merely to Stun him and bring him back to London. However, before he had time to say the incantation there was a sharp crack and Snape Disapparated.

Lupin fell forwards, slamming his chin against the wall and letting go of his wand. He quickly jumped to his feet again, and for the second time in not at all many minutes banged his head on the luggage rack. His eyes watering, he stumbled to the window, not knowing quite what he was expecting – Severus Snape, standing in the woods and waving smugly to him? A big sign, saying _He went this way_? The bastard could well be miles away by now.  
He reached up and brought his bag down to the seat, digging through the contents until he found what he was looking for. Taking out a small round mirror, he called into it, "Albus!" A moment passed and then the old man's face appeared in the mirror, looking rather cheerful.

"These mirrors are a jolly good invention, don't you think? I can't imagine why I haven't ever thought to use them before."

"Albus," said Lupin impatiently, leaning forward to look closely into the mirror, "Snape is gone."

"Gone?" Dumbledore looked nothing but faintly puzzled. So he, like everyone else, really _hadn't_ suspected Snape of anything, Lupin thought. "Gone where? And why?"

"There was a... letter for him. It arrived while he was out for a moment and I accidentally read it. When I confronted him about the content, he Disapparated."

"And what did the letter say?" asked Dumbledore quietly. His face had shuttered close, his expression now guarded.

"It said..." Lupin hesitated. He still could not quite believe that he had been so blind as to miss Snape's intentions. "It was from Peter, and it said _'We can count on you then, Snape, to get rid of the werewolf?' _"

There was a pause.

"I see," said Dumbledore finally.

"What do you want me to do, Albus? Do you want me to return right now, or should I try to pick up his trail? I could contact some of the other Ministries, get their Aurors to help out... it's possible he's still around here somewhere, he had to make a rather hasty Disapparation and he might be confused..."

"No," Dumbledore interrupted, shaking his head slowly. "No, I do not believe that to be necessary. I think I know quite well where he's going to be, you see. If you wouldn't mind going ahead with this... it could well be dangerous..."

"I don't care. If I can bring that bastard in, I don't care what I have to do. He's not getting away with this."

"No, I rather hope not." Dumbledore smiled, strangely. "Well then, if you wouldn't mind taking this risk – I would like you to continue your journey as if nothing happened."

"What?"

"As I said," Dumbledore said, "I believe I know a little of how his mind works right now. If I'm correct, he will play right into your hands. So for the moment, all you do is sit tight... and wait."

Twenty-four hours (or thereabout) had passed since his conversation with the Hogwarts headmaster and he was nearing the end of his journey. He had travelled all the way to the Hungarian train station with the funny name and had then made the three switches Snape had been talking about. He was now on the final train, the one that would at last bear him to his destination.

He'd had a restless night, sleeping fitfully only to wake up staring into the dark of his compartment, expecting each time to see Snape standing over him, wand in hand. He had eventually put up wards of protection and warning, with rather disastrous result. One woman – slightly paranoid – who travelled in the compartment next to him had opened his door to ask whether he had noticed the strange instability every time the train went through a curve, and had by doing so awaked the high-pitched, shrill warning call of his ward. (He hadn't exactly improved matters, either, by leaping to his feet and brandishing a pointy stick in her face.) The incident had led to the entire carriage being woken up and the poor nervous lady breaking down in hysterics, and he'd had to spend the next half hour making up a story about his _really_ loud cell phone signal.

When he put up his wards again, he included a Muggle-repelling charm.

But that had been two trains ago, and as the current one announced their approach to the end station he found himself not surprisingly thinking about trust.

When Sirius had been arrested, charged with the murders of Lily and James and sent to Azkaban, he had felt as if he had been robbed. He had trusted Sirius with his life several times in the battle against Voldemort, never fearing a betrayal. But as the months went by and Voldemort showed signs of knowing more and more of what he shouldn't, when the whispers of a leak in their own rank had started, that rock-hard trust had begun to be nibbled at by doubt. Sirius did come from an old pureblood family – and had not his own brother been a Death Eater? Maybe the pressure of family ties had been enough to overcome even friendship? Lupin knew how much his friend yearned for acceptance and love from the family that had disowned him. He knew that Sirius had met with his brother in school, still long after he had walked out of his childhood home – trying to learn if his mother ever mentioned him, if his father ever wore the robes he had picked out a day in Diagon Alley.

Finding that his fears about Sirius were true had been enough to make Lupin wonder if he would ever trust again.

Twelve years later he found out he had been wrong. And when the true culprit was revealed as the boy he had known and never suspected, the one place he had never thought to place his doubt – because who would think Peter had the courage? – his ability to trust without asking had once again been tried sorely.

And now it was Snape. Snape, who had been through distrust and passed through to the other side, who had been under so much suspicion he couldn't possibly be anything but true. Or so Lupin had thought.

_Maybe we ought to take people in for questioning based on who I declare that it can't be_, thought Lupin, rather wildly. _Because it certainly seems as though those I believe to be innocent turn out to be guilty, and the other way around. I never thought badly of Avery or Nott either, come to think of it. But they were at the Department of Mysteries, and Harry says he saw them both the night that Voldemort returned... Wait! I trust Harry! Well, that clinches it – he's Voldemort's right-hand man! No, left-hand. The right is reserved for Snape... or is it the left that is the Devil's side? _

He was interrupted in his gloomy thoughts as the train pulled in to the end station. He stood up, greeting the chance to finally get off blasted Muggle transports and do some walking – because there was still some way to go before he reached his true destination.  
There was a community of werewolves living just outside the Romanian town Deva, and it was for this one he was heading. The dusty road leading from the town was worn and full of potholes but he walked quickly down it, intending to make it to the werewolf settlement before nightfall. However, he had hardly gone halfway when the sky started darkening, and as he looked up he saw storm clouds gather above, black and ominous. As if he didn't have enough trouble already.

"Fuck!" he said out loud, kicking a pebble viciously and watching it sail into the wood on his right. As he followed its path he saw something flash in the darkness and threw himself to the ground only seconds before something hot and fiery soared over his head. He threw his bag to one side, rolled the other way and got to his feet, wand at the ready in his hand.

Severus Snape stepped out from the cover of the trees.

"Hello, Lupin," he said, and had the nerve to smile.

"Fuck off," Lupin spat.

"Easy. I think your companions are already on their way, but there's no need to use that kind of language until they arrive."

"My what?"

"Well, in the strict sense they're not your companions – not yet at least," said Snape casually, and threw another curse at Lupin. It didn't even come close.

"What are you talking about?" asked Lupin, and sent a hex in Snape's direction. His concentration not being the best, it was easily dodged.

"The other werewolves," Snape replied to his question, carefully stepping to the right a little. "The settlement is up there," he gestured towards a point some way up the mountainside, "and I'm pretty sure they will be down shortly – if for nothing else than to watch the spectacle. Ah!" He put up a shield quickly, just in time to block the curse Lupin had sent towards him. "Careful – that one could almost have hit me."

Lupin lost his patience. "WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M BLOODY WELL TRYING TO DO!" he yelled, then realized he sounded like Harry and shut his mouth quickly. Snape stared at him.

"You're out to kill me?" he asked.

"That's my line." Lupin waved a hand vaguely and angrily. "But yes, I am out to kill you. You may think this is not a civilised way to behave but then, you're not the one who just found out that someone he trusted betrayed him. And you know why? Because you were the one doing the fucking betraying!"

Snape shook his head. "You mean..." he said, looking shocked, "that Dumbledore didn't explain this to you?"

"I'm getting really tired of hearing you say that."

"But... what did you think the letter meant?"

"It isn't all that fucking hard to figure out, is it? You agreed to go on this mission for Dumbledore only because it would give you a perfect chance to rid the world of me! So easy to say the werewolves didn't take too kindly to me or a vampire was hungry. Voldemort must have been so proud." He sent a hex at his former school mate but his fury made it go awry and Snape hardly heeded it.

"Oh gods," he said, staring past Lupin and shaking his head. "Don't tell me... he's still trying to make the original plan work? Old fool..."

"What the hell are you talking about now?"

"Listen," said Snape, focusing on him again and looking more urgent than Lupin had ever seen him. "Give me only a few minutes to explain. I told the Death Eaters I planned to kill you once we were here – that is true. But the order originally came from Dumbledore."

Lupin paused, shocked by the sheer idiocy of the statement. "Do you really expect me to believe that?" he asked. "That Dumbledore wants me dead?"

"No... that came out wrong." Snape frowned, and absentmindedly sent a curse to a spot five metres to Lupin's left. "I'll start over. What is your task for this autumn?"

"Join Greyback's werewolf gang and try to persuade them not to join Voldemort," Lupin replied, watching the other man guardedly.

"And the reason you came here?"

"To first gain the trust of the werewolf settlement here, to able to go from here back to England and join Greyback's group."

"You have been doing at least part of your homework, I see," sneered Snape, then seemed to realise that contempt wasn't exactly the tone he wanted to use to win back Lupin's trust and winced. "Sorry. Old habit. Well, here is the last question: how do you, a werewolf who has lived his entire life in the sheltered world of wizards, hiding your condition and pretending to be a normal human like the rest of us, propose to gain access to a tight group as this one?" He gestured again in the general direction of the werewolf community. "Many of them have never lived among wizards, not one day from the moment they were born. You will be a complete outsider."

Lupin opened his mouth, closed it again and scowled. "Since you're asking these questions, I'm guessing you have an answer," he replied after a while, sourly. "And while giving that do explain why, if your intentions are all nice and honest, you're _still trying to hex me_!"

"Because that's how we'll get the werewolves here to accept you," said Snape almost wearily. "It was Dumbledore's idea. The werewolves here are fiercely loyal to their kind and if they see one of theirs attacked, they will come to his rescue. So when I – a wizard – attack you, they'll hopefully come to your aid. It's the only way you'll be allowed into their group."

It did sound like a plan Dumbledore would be able to come up with. Slightly nutty, but possibly quite successful.

"If this is true," muttered Lupin, "how come I wasn't told?" (He hoped that didn't come out as petulant as it felt.)

"Authenticity," said Snape.

"What?"

"If we are to act out a fight, it will be more real if you actually believe in it, won't it?"

"More real? _More real?_ You're telling me," Lupin said slowly, fury rising with every word, "that I went through twenty-four hours of thinking I had misjudged you completely and that you were after my blood, never mind the constant fear that I would find you with your wand to my head, to make this little charade seem _more real_? I could kill you!"

"It was Dumbledore's idea," Snape protested. "Although you might want to hold on to that thought, anyway. We want a nice and furious fight, after all."

"Oh, don't worry about that!" Lupin shouted, throwing his hands into the air. "And what was he thinking, really? You'd know you should hold back, but I wouldn't! What if I'd hurt you?"

"I doubt it," said Snape, lifting his eyebrows meaningly. "And we were also counting on you being thoroughly surprised by my attack, not anticipating it. I think Dumbledore was taking it a bit too far by not telling you even after you saw the letter though. He should have guessed this would never work."

"Too bloody right!" Lupin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "So why did you take off like a frightened bunny when I confronted you about the letter, then? Why didn't you explain it all to me instead of running away?"

"I did try," Snape replied dryly. "If you remember, you didn't give me much room to talk."

"What were you expecting me to do? Say that oh, what a coincidence, here we are talking about the old days and a letter arrives for you from Peter? How is the old chap nowadays? Still disfiguring himself in the service of his lord and snivelling like a rat? So much in common – I imagine you two must get along like a house on fire! Pity your actual house doesn't, too!"

"My god, you are so melodramatic." Snape shook his head, then glanced behind his shoulder. He sent a curse towards Lupin, closer this time than the last three or four, and then a milder hex. "I don't know when they'll be here, but you might want to start preparing the teary tale about how wizardkind has betrayed you, just in case. Don't forget the part about how you thought you could trust them and live among them, but once they – 'they' meaning me in particular – found out about your condition they pushed you out and treated you like an animal. I will be shouting a few derogatory comments to make them understand that you are in fact one of theirs, but I'm going to take off pretty quickly. (I don't actually want to be attacked by a group of brutal werewolves, after all.) Come now, don't duck every hex – we want you to be smashed up at least a little bit. And don't forget – once you're in, don't use magic."

Lupin bit his lip. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"More authentic if you don't, isn't it?"

"God, I hate you. And to think, here I was almost considering to start liking you."

Snape sneered at him, halting for a while in his spell-casting to give it special effect. "Terribly Gryffindor of you," he said scathingly. "But I'm sorry to say, dear Lupin, that the idea of playing snuggly-bunnies with you doesn't appeal to me half as much as to you." He grinned wider, a parody of a smile. "There's something you don't seem to understand here: I don't like you. I don't know many times I'll have to tell you this before you get it. I don't like you, I have never liked you and I will never start to like you. I know how much you'd love for us to overcome all our differences and be like brothers, but it will not happen. Is it because you've lost all your friends? Are you so desperate for a _bestest buddy_? It won't be me. I don't respect you. I won't ever respect you. I can't respect a man who stood aside and let me endure torment for seven years, without ever lifting a finger."

Lupin clenched his jaw. "Are you done?" he asked coldly, barely moving his lips.

"Quite done, yes. Nice to get it off my chest," smirked Snape. "Now, if you would attack me I'd be much obliged. Try to put your heart into it."

"I think you'll find that it _really_ won't be a problem," Lupin replied, and raised his wand.

The sky burst open above them.

"You can't trust wizards," hissed the man on his left, holding him firmly around the waist as they stumped along, picking their way up the mountainside and slipping ever so often on the wet rock. The rain was pouring down, making it hard to even see their destination.

"Bloody treacherous bastards, the lot of them," agreed the woman on his right. She shifted slightly, hoisting his arm into a better position across her shoulders, and gripped his hand tight. "Relax. It's not much further."

"Fine," he muttered. His head was throbbing. Snape had always been a mean duellist, he recalled – the only reason he had never won against James and Sirius had been just that, that they were two and he was one.

"How are you feeling?" The woman leaned close, and he had to fight not to recoil from her breath, smelling of old meat and disease.

"Shit," he answered. His mouth tasted of blood and sweat and bile. He barely had enough energy left to even stay conscious. To be able to knock him about like that – no wonder Snape had been the one to go with him for this mission. No one else would have been able to stomach hurting him so much.

"That's what you get for messing with wizardkind," growled the man on his left, and caught his weight as he stumbled and fell. "Oops! Watch your step carefully here... well, how about that. The bugger's gone and fainted."

"Are you surprised? He was attacked full-on by a powerful wizard," said the woman, and knelt down. "If you carry, I'll steady you. Careful. It's really slippery now."

"Alright." The man bent down and, with a grunt, lifted Lupin across his shoulders. "Weighs next to nothing."

"I don't suppose he's had it easy, finding the next meal. It's always like that with those who try to live with wizards, they have it worse than dogs. I can't understand why they never learn. And it's always the English..." She leaned her head to one side, and stroked Lupin's cheek with one long-fingered hand. "This one... he really believed them to be good. The attack was such a shock for him... did you see the pain in his eyes? I believe he really trusted them. It must have been such a nasty shock for him to wake up to the truth." She pushed a lock of greying hair out of his face, watching the drawn features thoughtfully.

"We must be kind to him, Valeri. He's been through so much already – I can see it in his face. Let us welcome him, and show him that unlike wizards, we can be trusted."

And many miles away, a wizard looked down into a stone bowl with an air of great concentration... A door opened, and he looked up... and smiled.

"Good job, Severus," said Dumbledore happily, grinning broadly at soaking figure in front of him. "I'm very pleased with how it turned out. You did well – especially with the whole _I don't respect you, you piece of filth_-speech right at the end there. I believe you really shocked him with that."

"Glad to please," muttered Snape. "In case no one ever told you before, you are completely nuts. For a while there I truly thought he would kill me. What on earth were you accomplishing by not explaining the plan to him?"

"Making him distrust me, as well," said Dumbledore softly, looking back down to what he had been occupied with before Snape arrived. "Remus is a lovely person, but he shows his feelings so clearly. For this to work, we need true emotion."

"Oh, great." Snape shook his head violently, cascading water everywhere. "So now you have a powerful wizard, partly estranged from even you and doubting all he's held true for the last decade or so, in middle of a werewolf gang who hates humans? Fabulous."

"I'm sure it'll turn out fine," smiled Dumbledore, and held up the bowl he had been looking at. "Care for a Bertie Bott bean before you go? I picked out all the red ones I could find – one of them is bound to be a Bloody Mary."

Snape opened his mouth to snap out a retort, but thought better of it. After a brief pause, he reached out and took a bean from the offered bowl. He chewed it slowly, his face not changing expression.

"Well?"

"Ketchup," said Snape, and spat.

"Ah well." Dumbledore shrugged. "Close enough."


End file.
